


The Blind Man's Afterimage

by ch4lk34t3r



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, America being America (Hetalia), Bad Boy AU, Brothers America & Canada (Hetalia), Brothers Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Countries Using Human Names, Drama & Romance, Drama and Romance, Hetalia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Addiction, Theater - Freeform, Theater AU, Theatre, Theatre AU, gilbert is just trying to work on himself pls love him, prucan, sorta ??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9660779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch4lk34t3r/pseuds/ch4lk34t3r
Summary: After the car accident, Matthew Williams' life seemed to be put on hold, as he couldn't remember who anyone was anymore. Now that he's further along in his recovery and back in school, he tries out for the school play, "Romeo and Juliet". Little does he know, he plays the Juliet to school's infamous bad boy's, Gilbert Beilschmidt, Romeo. And he's supposed to kiss him? As if!





	1. Update

Hey guys, it's Era! I know I haven't really posted since I was, like, in high school, but I've seemed to have gotten out of my writer's block! It's been about two years but at least I'm writing again! I feel like I have the passion for writing that I had when I was 14 again, but somehow stronger! So this story is getting the complete rewrite that I've always wanted but was too unmotivated to do so. If you enjoyed the old story, I promise you that you will absolutely love the new! The first chapter should be out within a week or so, and I'll be posting updates regularly again!

Thank you for all of your patience and I hope you enjoy the story!

-Era


	2. Chapter 1

_“I wanna scream ‘I love you!’ from the top of my lungs, but I’m afraid someone else will hear me.You can blame your problems on the world for so long before it all becomes the same old song. As soon as we hit the hospital I know we’re gonna leave this town and get new passports and get out now.”_

A hand reached out to snatch the cell phone to turn off the alarm that sang the Fall Out Boy song lyrics. A teenage boy sat up and yawned, his long wheat blond hair sticking up in every which direction. After a final stretch, the lanky spirit unlocked his phone and checked the time.

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed as he jumped out of bed and towards his closet for fresh clothes. In a flurry panic, he worried, “I’m gonna be late!”

“Matthew!” a woman called from downstairs, as if she could sense his discomfort. “Are you dressed yet? We have to leave now!”

“Coming, momma!” Matthew answered as he tried to get dressed as fast as possible. He threw on the same red hoodie he always wore, along with a pair of jeans and some beat up Converse high tops. He took a quick glance at himself in the mirror and gave a crooked smile. He liked how long his hair was, how soft his features were, and how androgynous his entire aura seemed to appear to be. He never considered himself trans in any way, but he liked being confusing to people about ‘what he was’. Besides, he put the _B_ in _LGBT_ anyway, he didn’t need other people telling him who he was. He grabbed his wallet and phone and flew down the staircase and greeted his mother, “Sor-sorry, ma! My alarm didn’t go off until late!”

“It’s alright,” she reassured. She grabbed her purse and keys and instructed, “But we have to leave in minus five minutes, so get in the car!”

The pair headed for the family van and he and his mother drove off. Matthew opted to wearing headphones and listening to music to keep his mind preoccupied. He scrolled through his downloaded music and listened to the same old band he had been listening to for years.

_“I can take your problems away with a nod and a wave of my hand, ‘cause that’s just the kind of boy that I am. The only thing I haven’t done yet is die, and it’s me and my plus one at the afterlife. Crowds are won and lost and won again, but our hearts beat for the diehards. So long live the car crash hearts, cry on the couch all the poets come to life. Fix me in forty-five.”_

He sat and bobbed his head along to the beat, gazing out of the passenger side window. Matthew liked the band, as did everyone when he was back in middle school. Though, that was just like him, to have the same interests for years and years. This included wearing the same sneakers and hoodie since ninth grade, not cutting his hair since he was fourteen, and listening to the same band for almost their entire career. These things had become a comfort to him, since nothing seemed to make sense in his current world of nonsense.

His mother called him back from outer space and asked, “So, are you doing well in school?”

“What do you mean?” Matthew asked. “My grades?”

“I mean, are you adapting to it well?” she inquired. “Do you think you’ve recalled any memories?”

“I don’t think that’s what the doctor meant by that, momma,” he corrected. “I’m pretty sure she just wanted me to try to overcome my anxiety of people, you know?”

She nodded, adding, “I guess. But, I feel like I’ve been holding you back from a regular high school experience.”

He removed one earbud and raised his eyebrows solemnly, “Momma, you know that you couldn’t have prevented the accident. Not Alfred, not papa, no one could. Please don’t feel bad for me, and please don’t beat yourself up about it any longer.”

“You’re my child,” she stated. “It’s my job to be overprotective! And it’s my job to beat myself up!”

“Things will pass, this is all for the better,” he reassured. His mother nodded in agreeance as she pulled into the empty parking space.

The pair walked into the doctor’s office and as his mother signed him in, Matthew turned his music up a little louder. To be quite honest, he hated the doctor’s office, since they were associated with bad times. It still frightened him to think about the night he went to the emergency room. He was so terrified, having not remembered how or why he got there. His younger brother, Alfred, had told him that they had gotten into a car accident, but he was too afraid of him, of everyone, to believe that was what really happened. He was so terrified that he induced himself into a deep coma. When he had woken up days later, he was even more frightened, as he still could not remember the people around him. He recalled being in the ICU for the longest time, and people who claimed to be his friends and family coming to visit him. That time was such a blur; a hazy, drug induced fever dream. It was not until this current year, with being in school and making new friends that he was not afraid of, did he feel that he was present in the world again, honestly speaking.

“Williams, Matthew?” the nurse called from behind the waiting room doors. Matthew and his mother rose and followed the professional to the back of the office. The hallways stretched what seemed like endlessly, the doctors and nurses that passed by them being faceless once again in Matthew’s forgetful mind. Once his mother and he were situated into a room, the specialist situated the pair and began running Matthew’s vitals.

“Seems like you’re doing really good, Matthew,” the doctor proclaimed. “How has your memory been since you’ve been in school? Any better, you think?”

“Yeah, I think my anxiety is what’s actually getting better,” Matt agreed. “There’s a Romeo and Juliet play at my school’s theater club, and I was thinking about joining.”

“That sounds great!” she exclaimed. “That would be excellent for your mental health! And maybe memorizing lines will improve your memory! And that would be a great way of making new friends!”

Matthew only half heartedly chuckled, not totally agreeing with her. School might have improved his mental status tenfold, but his social life was very much the same, and apparently had been the same for a while. According to his family and some of his recovered memories, Matthew had always been sort of a loner. He wouldn’t approach other kids, so the only friends he had were the ones that took the initiative and talked to him first. He didn’t really know how to make friends, but he was grateful for the handful he had.

Way back in middle school, Matthew had a couple of friends (or acquaintances, Matthew still wasn’t sure) whose names were Francis and Antonio. They talked a lot and even hung out outside of school. After the accident, it took Matthew about three years to almost fully remember who they were and become comfortable with them again. Since then, he had not really talked to them, maybe a little in school and such but due to his memory loss, he didn’t feel that he had retained enough memories to really know them, which put a damper on their friendship. They were there for most of the way during his recovery, but Matthew didn’t blame them for not wanting to be friends with someone that didn’t even remember who they were. They were just entering high school and had lives of their own, he didn’t expect them to be by his bedside every waking moment.

After the appointment, Matthew and his mother drove home to Alfred, who had just gotten off from school. Matt listened to some of his brother’s stories of who said what and who fought who at school that day, but he was quickly drained and went to his room to lie down. As he plopped down onto his mattress, he daydreamed about the drama club and how confident he could be, but he shook the thought out of his mind. He was Matthew Williams for God’s sake! Matthew Williams, the shy boy at school who always sat alone at lunch, even though he had friends. Matthew Williams, the boy that literally no one had seen so much as smile at school. Matthew Williams, the boy that was alone because he pushed everyone away.

He rolled over and groaned, muttering into his pillow, “Please stop thinking.”

* * *

 

Matthew walked to his next class with little enthusiasm as he tried to ignore the obnoxious students. His English class was a fun one, yes, but it was so hard to pay attention due to the students interrupting. Most of the students that acted like class clowns were returning detention students, and didn’t want to be there. It would only be this class left, he thought to himself, and then he would home free.

Then, a loud Germanic voice tore through Matthew’s daydream state as he called, _“Ich habe eine Frage!”_

“What is it, Mr. Beilschmidt?” the teacher sighed as he stopped the lesson temporarily. “Do you have a question about this lesson? Because those are the only ones I’ll take.”

_“Ich brauche eine Minute,”_ the boy with pale skin and blond-white hair muttered underneath his breath. He paused for a moment, and asked, expression heavily animated, _“Ja, ist das sogar wichtig?”_

“Gilbert, whatever it is you want, the answer is no,” the instructor responded.

Gilbert mumbled out of earshot, _“Fick dich, dann.”_

Matthew glanced over at the teen and crawled in his skin. That boy was Gilbert Beilschmidt, a school legend, but not for anything good. He was known for being a notorious trouble maker, and probably being the oldest kid in the school. As fable told, the teen had failed every grade level he had been in, some of them he even took multiple times. He was allegedly about twenty-two or twenty-three and his age made him no more mature than his fellow peers and students. The boy of German descent was known for his rebellious behavior and breaking the rules, and it made him very popular for seemingly no reason. Matthew assumed that the cause as to why Gilbert had not graduated yet was because he wanted to be in high school for as long as he possibly could, and to stay as popular as he was now. Even though he was loud, obnoxious, and probably knew more English than he lead others to believe, Matthew paid him no mind. He was just a trouble maker, and attention would only feed into his rebellion. Though, that didn’t stop Matthew from getting distracted in every single class he had with him.

When the last bell rang for the day, Matthew excitedly grabbed his things and ran down the hallways as fast as traffic would allow him to. With this excess confidence he somehow had was going to be put to good use, as he walked into the drama club room. Taking a glance around, his heart sank at what he saw. Almost every student in the club room was running wild as if it were some kind of recess, and the director looked stressed as ever. He sighed, and took a seat in an empty row of the auditorium, pulling out his phone to pass the time. Scrolling through various social media, Matthew had become completely absorbed and in his own world, until a boisterous voice called for him.

“Hey, blond guy!” Gilbert Beilschmidt called from the stage in front of him. He was dressed from head to toe in black and wearing, combat boots? No one really wore boots in school, especially not the stereotypical ‘tough guys’ and especially not combat boots. It was strange to Matthew; Gilbert really didn’t seem like the combat boot wearing type. Additionally, if it weren’t for the boy’s almost white hair, he would’ve been unnoticable from all the black he was wearing, as he was practically blending in with the dark. Gilbert was undoubtedly an interesting character, but Matthew tried not to pay any attention, since that was what he figured he wanted. Gilbert angled his head and walked closer to the edge of the stage, waving and calling, “Hello? Hello! Can you hear me? Come on, I know you can hear me!”

Matthew pulled his hood over his head, the corners of his mouth askew as he tried his hardest to retain eye contact with his phone. God, he wanted nothing more than to just disappear. He hated when people just casually called him out like that, it sucked any confidence he thought he had right from him. The rebel raised his brows and squinted at him from the stage, but shrugged his shoulders and walked away. Breathing a sigh of relief, Matthew removed his hood and returned to what he was doing. His cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, as he could only lament on what happened. Why did he have to be so easily shy? Better question, why did Gilbert Beilschmidt have to be so unpleasant? These questions could be put out into the universe, but never answered.

Once it was time for tryouts, Matthew tried his very best to recharge the courage that the insurgent had drained from him. He wanted so badly to get the lead, to live out his fantasies of being a real life Romeo Montague. He was going to give it his all, and show everyone that he wasn’t another shadow that roamed the halls of their school.

“Okay everyone,” the drama club director called for the auditorium’s attention. Once it quieted down, he continued, “I’m going to be rattling off the list of people by each role. So we’re going to start with Romeo and I’ll be calling everyone who wrote their name down, alright? So that starts us off with Gilbert… Bellsmith?”

“Beilschmidt,” the annoying student corrected. He winked at the audience, “And, let me show you how a real Romeo acts, ladies.”

The very few ladies that were in the auditorium were the artistic coordinators from the previous year and most likely were going to be this year, and probably definitely not this year’s Juliet. Though, that did not stop Gilbert from his annoying flirting.

“And we’re gonna need a Juliet from the list to audition with Mr. Beilschmidt here. Uh, Matthew Williams?”

Matthew’s heart nearly jumped right from his chest as his name was called. As he walked up the short steps to the wide open stage, him and Gilbert had made eye contact with each other, Matt too afraid to break it. The look Gilbert gave him was an observant one, one that made Matt feel like a specimen in a glass jar, like a bug he was ready to dissect. Gilbert’s brow drew together as he looked him up and down, making him shiver with anticipation. What was he doing? What was he looking at? What about Matthew was so interesting to Gilbert? They broke eye contact once the director called out instructions.

“Alright, so I want you two to read out some of the balcony scene I have printed out for you both,” he said, handing out copies to the both of them. “We’re starting at the scene where Juliet appears from her balcony. And go!”

Gilbert cleared his throat and through his thick accent, he proposed, _“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief. That thou her maid art far more fair than she.”_

Matthew’s jaw hit the floor as soon as Gilbert began. Everything that was aborrant about him, everything that was unpleasant or loathsome instantly vanished as he began his line. As he continued, Matthew was in complete awe of how Gilbert could drop his bad boy attitude as if it were all an act, and he was actually a real life Romeo. He could hardly believe how fluently Gilbert could say his lines; he knew that Gilbert was not American, but he did not know exactly how foreign he was. Normally, his English would be broken and mispronounced but he spoke with such ease and eloquence when reading off a script, unlike from a passage from a book in the English class they shared.

Before he even knew it, Gilbert was eyeing Matthew as if he wanted something, and he quickly realized he spent the entirety of Gilbert’s lines daydreaming. He shook his head and read his line off of his paper, _“A-Aye, me!”_

Gilbert smiled, or at least Matthew thought that was what it looked like, and continued his lines, _“She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him! When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air!”_

Matthew stumbled over his lines once again, taken aback by the increased energy Gilbert had put into his line. _“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?_  
_Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.”_

Gilbert staggered closer and took Matthew’s hand and gazed into his eyes, _“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”_

_“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name, which is no part of thee, take all myself.”_

With a grip still on Matthew’s hand, Gilbert guided his limb to his cheek for dramatic effect, and Matthew jumped back slightly. His face was smooth except for a stubble patch by his jaw. He fluttered his eyes in a way that really seemed like he knew Matthew for years and loved him for longer. His eyes, Matthew just noticed, were red? But also purple? Kind of, reddish-purplish? Oh God, they were definitely one of a kind, that was for sure. Gil brought him back from cloud nine with a hushed tone, still loud enough for the audience to hear.

_“I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptis'd; henceforth I never will be Romeo.”_

“And cut!” the director called. Gilbert slowly took Matthew’s hand away from his cheek and faced the front of the stage. He began again, “That was amazing! I could see the passion between you two like… like you were actually Romeo and Juliet!”

“Th-thank you,” Matthew stuttered. Gilbert nodded his head in agreeance.

“I think I might know who will be the stars of our play. Now, Matthew,” he trailed off. “I know you also auditioned for Romeo, but I’m going to consider you for the part based on your performance as Juliet.”

He nodded cheerfully, and he could feel Gilbert’s eyes on him. Were they good eyes or bad eyes? Matthew did not know, nor did he care, he had much bigger things to think about. After much anticipation, he was probably going to get the role of Romeo!

“The audition results will be posted on the lobby cork board tomorrow! I wish you the best of luck!” he added.

That night, Matthew was almost too giddy to sleep. The thought of being the star of the play and how close he was to it was inconceivable! For a brief moment, Gilbert crossed his mind but left it just as fast. Who cared that Gilbert Beilschmidt was a little too close for comfort? Who cared that he was so close to him he could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath? Not Matthew, that was for sure. He had his life and he had his own, the play was the only thing that crossed their life paths. Though, Gilbert came up in his nightly daydreaming more than once, Matthew hated to admit. The last line that Gilbert had recited rang in Matthew’s mind like Sunday church bells, sounding bittersweet and memorable.

_I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptis'd; henceforth I never will be Romeo._

Matthew pondered over the line and its meaning. Henceforth, I will never be Romeo. Gilbert would never be Romeo; not in their personal lives, and not in the play, perhaps. Maybe it was an omen, informing Matthew that he would get the role instead of Gilbert. He yawned and soon enough, he drifted off to sleep, the German boy still on his curious mind.

* * *

 

After the last bell of the day rang, Matthew flew from his classroom to the school lobby. He could hardly contain his excitement! Just imagine: his name, plastered on posters on every wall in his high school! In the crowd of potential suitors for the lead role, Matt pushed his way through the swarm to get a glimpse of the roll call. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he read the name that occupied his under the Romeo role.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt?” Matthew muttered to himself. To say he was in complete shock was an understatement. Terrified was a more suiting expression. Though, his heart grew wings and flew from his stomach and to his throat as he read the name under Juliet.

“Me?” he whispered even quieter and even more under his breath. Today was not real, it couldn’t be. How he wished he never even tried out for the stupid school play!

Matthew moped his way to the student parking lot, reviewing what had just happened. Gilbert Beilschmidt; the lead role, Romeo Montague. And then there was Matthew Williams, his supposed Juliet Capulet. How was he supposed to deal with that? Should he drop out now, and avoid all future embarrassment? If he stayed, what was he supposed to even do? Surely he was not going to kiss him, that was outlandish to even fathom! Though, what was he going to do? If he wasn’t going to kiss him, and if he wasn’t going to drop out, what were his options?

“Hey, Mattie!” a blond boy in a Chevy convertible called for him. Matthew hazily waved back and climbed into the passenger seat. His brother beamed and asked, “So, how goes it, little bro? Did you get the part?”

“Hey Alfred,” he greets. Matthew hangs his head and sighs, “And about the part, well, I mean, technically?”

“What’s that mean?” he angled his head.

“I got the Juliet role,” Matt exasperated, pushing his curly blond hair out of his face.

Alfred pursed his lips and queried, “Then, who’s Romeo?”

Matthew waited a moment to catch his breath as his heart rate increased suddenly, “It’s Gilbert.”

Alfred paused, raising his brows, and interrogated, “Like, Gilbert Beilschmidt? The Gilbert Beilschmidt?”

He nodded, exhaling, “Yeah, that’s exactly the one.”

Al laid back in his seat and let shock consume his expression. A moment of awkward silence passed by the brothers before he continued, “You’re not going to accept the role, are you?”

Matthew paused for a moment, “I mean, it’s a high school play, they couldn’t possibly make kids kiss each other if they don’t want to. Does that sound right?”

Alfred sucked his teeth and shrugged his shoulders, “I guess that’s fair.”

The younger brother started the vehicle’s ignition and made their way out of the school parking lot. No words were said, but the air was heavy with words unsaid. Matthew glanced over at Alfred, who appeared to be mulling something over and over in his mind. He spoke up to ask, “What’re you thinking about, Alfie?”

Alfred snapped out of his trance and he waved his hand nonchalantly, “Nothing! It’s nothing, really!”

Matt cut his eyes and folded his arm, arguing, “I know when you’re thinking hard about something, Alfred. Tell me what’s up.”

“It’s just,” he started, his voice hitching as he did. “I just don’t really trust Gilbert.”

“Well, that makes the two of us,” he added. “But I want to be in this theater club more than anything. And no Beilschmidt is going to get in my way.”

Alfred gritted his teeth as he made an especially sharp turn at the intersection. He commented, “Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Gilbert is bad news. And I mean bad, bad news.”

“I mean, I think I know the basics,” Matthew informed, his hand firmly on the door handle as he tried to steady his heart rate from his brother’s reckless driving. “I mean, I know he’s obnoxious, but you’re also obnoxious, and I live with you! I think I can handle a couple of hours after school with him!”

Alfred shook his head, disregarding the obnoxious comment, and informed his brother, “Gilbert is nothing but a troublemaker. He drinks, he smokes, he’s a down right sex addict, and he gets carried away way too often. Plus, he’s, like, five or so years older than you because he keeps flunking out.”

Matthew pondered for a moment; he was not aware exactly of his classmate’s wrongdoings, or that he was actually in his early twenties and still in high school. Though Gilbert could definitely be older, Matt never believed the rumors and did not think he was a year or more older than him. If he was twenty-two or twenty-three, he would have smartened up by now and did what he was supposed to do. Even though he did not believe everything that his younger brother was telling him, Matthew just played along with his justice fantasy. Sometimes, he wondered how his girlfriend, Alice, could put up with him and his rambling.

“I mean really, Matthew,” Alfred brought him back from outer space. “It’s a miracle how he isn’t suspended yet!

Matthew just nodded and acted interested, though he was long lost in his own thoughts. Wasn’t he friends with some of the guys he had seen Gilbert hang out with often? Acquaintances? At least had their phone numbers? Matt pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contact list and, much to his surprise, he still had their numbers. He smiled, and thanked God that he still did, because he was going to ask some serious questions, and not about the Algebra class they had taken together all the way back in middle school.

* * *

 

Gilbert Beilschmidt walked to his car to meet his younger brother, Ludwig, already waiting for him. He unlocked the old beat up vehicle and he climbed in, Gil still taking his time to approach the driver’s seat. Once there, he buckled up, started the ignition, and dramatically slammed his head on the horn. Underneath the deafening car siren, Ludwig shook his brother and spoke to him in a wavering voice.

_“Bruder!”_ he called as Gil continued to lay on the steering wheel. “Get up! What’s wrong you!”

Finally ending the boisterous horn sound, Gilbert sat up slowly and glanced over to his passenger. After a few moments of catching his thought, he said, “I got the part.”

“So? Aren’t you excited? I thought you wanted to be Romeo?” Ludwig requested. “Why do you seem so upset?”

“Because,” Gil exhaled, almost tempted to bang his head on the car window. “Juliet is a guy.”

Ludwig took his hand off of his brother and quietly gasped, at a momentary loss for words. When he finally found them, he attempted to comfort him. “I mean, what’s wrong with that? It’s not the end of the world, right? It’s not like you’re going to spend every waking moment together! It’s only just a couple of hours after school!”

“I’m going to quit tomorrow,” Gil stated promptly, Lud in shock.

“What! No!” he refused, putting his hand back on his shoulder as he continued. “You are not going to give up your dream just because, what? A boy is playing the role of your love interest? You’re a Beilschmidt, and you never give up!”

Gil’s mind was racing; this whole ordeal of tricking his friends, his family, into thinking that he was really trying. That he was going to join the school play and show them that he was not the idiot they always took him for. He was going to go up on that stage and prove to his family, no, his whole school, that he was just as intelligent as the next guy. Sure, the part about theater being his dream was true, he spent nearly every night for the past couple of years failing to recite plays from Shakespeare alike. Though, the part about learning all of the script in a language he barely understood was the part that was mostly true, and the part of wanting to prove to everyone that he could do it was even truer.

Since he and his family had moved from Germany to America, Gilbert was always behind Ludwig. In grades, in popularity, in being proficient in English. Ludwig was the smarter sibling out of the both of them, meanwhile Gilbert had been learning the language since he was fourteen and he still spoke mostly broken English. It upset him, angered him even, that he was still nineteen and in still in high school, while Ludwig was seventeen and graduating a whole year early. His failure was evident even to his family, as that was what everyone in his family said.

_I guess we’re having one graduate a year early and one graduate two years late._

It was always shoved in his face that he was the lesser sibling. It always destroyed his confidence when he was being compared to his brother, and his little brother, no less. And even if Gilbert was not able to memorize all his lines or improve his language skills whatsoever, he still wanted to show to his friends and family that he was not, by any means, gay. He was supposed to kiss the girl that was playing Juliet and show the whole world that he was straight. Granted, Gilbert knew for a fact that he was straight, but the people around him did not. His friends playfully teased him about his sexuality, which he did not mind in the slightest. His family and strangers, however, were a different story.

By the many fathers that he had in the past, all of them denied Gilbert and his heterosexuality. He practically grew up in lipstick and a pink tutu, attempting to get his brother to join along. Even though his mother saw it as a way to enjoy having the baby girl she never got to have, his past fathers had shamed him for it, thus leading his mother on to the next suitor. He was ever grateful for his mother defending him as a child, not standing to be with a man that did not accept her son, but it burdened Gilbert. That his mother could not find love because of him. That what if his fathers were right, and that he was gay but just didn’t know it? This lead Gilbert to a life of sex, drugs, and alcohol, the intoxicants being the only way he could have sex with a women. Though, it worried Gilbert; what if in one of his many drunken escapades, he had sex with a guy? It was not like he would ever know, as he always woke up the next morning with a blank mind and a guilty conscience.

“Gilbert?” Ludwig asked in a low tone, reviving GIlbert from his drowning thoughts. He raised his brows and looked him in the eye, the younger one asking again, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he lied, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m okay.”

With that, the two drove home, Gilbert’s mind heavy and the music loud. He could not stop thinking about the boy with blond hair and glasses with the name he could not remember for the life of him. He was unable to stop the intrusive thoughts of kissing that boy with the blond hair on a stage in front of the whole school. He shook the thought out of his mind; that was totally impossible! He was going to quit the club before he could even let that happen. Although, deep in his heart, Gilbert was not willing to quit. He wanted to ask the director if there was any way around the kissing scenes, of course, but he wanted to do this. He was going to be in that play, whether or not the blond boy was his Juliet or not.

Gilbert sighed; he wondered how long it would take until his friends would tease him for something this outwardly gay.

* * *

 

Matthew dumped his book bag onto his bedroom floor and flopped down onto his mattress. He whipped out his cell phone once again and began brainstorming what to say to them.

To: Francis, Antonio  
Hey, it’s Matthew from algebra! I was wondering, do you guys still talk to Gilbert? Thank you in advance!

Not a moment after sending the message, he got a reply back.

Francis:  
You mean algebra from middle school? I gave you my number so you could text me over the summer! Not four years later! You broke my 13 year old heart!

Matthew:  
What’re you talking about? That enormous and oblivious crush you had on me for all of middle school? And yeah I know, shit came up. But do you and Antonio still hang out with Gilbert?

Antonio:  
Oh my God, Matthew! I thought you hated us!

Matthew:  
Yeah, everyone thought that, but I’ll explain that later. Can you answer my question about Gilbert please?

Francis:  
I mean, there was a time where we didn’t hang out with him for a while, but we do now. Why, is something wrong?

Matthew:  
So I auditioned for the school play, right? I tried out for both the Romeo and Juliet roles, but I got Juliet.

Antonio:  
What does Gil have to do with this? Don’t tell me he’s actually in the drama club!

Matthew:  
…

Francis:  
Oh my fucking God. Gilbert is Romeo, isn’t he?

Matthew:  
I’m guessing he’s not spreading the happy news. Don’t tell him that I told you that! He’d probably kill me!

Antonio:  
Our Gillie? He wouldn’t hurt a fly!

Matthew:  
I feel like that was supposed to be sarcastic.

Francis:  
It’s not! He’s actually a really cool dude!

Matthew:  
That’s another reason why I texted you guys. What is he like? Is it true that he’s an alcoholic, druggie sex addict? Is he actually like 22?

Francis:  
Oh my God you poor thing.

Antonio:  
That’s totally not true! Where did you hear that from?

Matthew:  
Alfred told me. You mean he’s not an alcoholic druggie sex addict? I thought I’ve heard Al tell me stories from parties that he’s been to with him.

Antonio:  
Oh he’s an alcoholic druggie sex addict alright. I was talking about the 22 thing.

Francis:  
He’s like a year and a half older than us. I mean, he’ll be 20 when he graduates but definitely not 23!

Matthew:  
That’s a relief, I guess. But what can you tell me about his “troublesome” side? Like, the shit’s he’s done and everything? I asked Alfred but he didn’t go into detail.

Antonio:  
He likes to party and shit like the rest of us, but he just takes it a little out of hand sometimes.

Francis:  
I’d say that he’s the sole reason as to why every party he’s been to the cops had to show up to shut it down.

Antonio:  
Yeah he just gets crazy fucked up but no one knows why. We’re friends with him but we still don’t even really know why he acts the way he does. Personal preference? Trauma? Rebellion? It’s still kinda new to us even.

Francis:  
But why do you want to know him, Mattie? You’re not into him, are you?

Matthew:  
Hell no! I was just wondering because I’ve heard crazy rumors about this kid that’s apparently the Romeo to my Juliet. I was just trying to prepare myself for what’s coming!

Antonio:  
He’s a really nice guy once you get to know him. I mean, he’s still kinda a dick and we’ve known him since freshman year, but I think that’s just a part of his personality!

Matthew:  
Okay, well, thanks anyway guys. I appreciate it.

Antonio:  
No problem!

Francis:  
;)

Matthew set his phone down for the first time in almost an hour and laid back, staring at his ceiling. There were posters held up but glow in the dark sticky stars, the same as they had always been. He pondered about Gilbert Beilschmidt; if he was correct, his brother was the one that was graduating with them this year. He was always the smartest kid in class and obeyed all the rules. Gilbert, on the other hand, was a drastically different person. He was rambunctious, out of line, and disobeyed every rule the teachers could think of. That raised another question; why was Gilbert joining the drama club? What was he getting out of it? Matthew made a mental note to check in with the club director at practice tomorrow to opt out of kissing that guy.


	3. Chapter 2

After listening to Gilbert interrupt their entire English Literature class, Matthew slumped to the auditorium for drama rehearsal. He walked briskly as did his thoughts, running rampant about how the first rehearsal would go. Was Gilbert going to embarrass him in front of everyone and make him quit on the spot? Or, the better question, was Gilbert even going to show up? Regardless of all that and regardless of what people had told Matthew, Gilbert still made the effort to audition and join the drama club.

He would have to see how things played out this practice because judging from his conversation with Francis and Antonio, Matthew was beginning to think that Gilbert wasn't half as bad as people made him out to be. Then again, he would have to see that for himself before he would believe anything anyone had told him about Gilbert Beilschmidt.

As Matthew was making his way through the crowded hallways, he felt something, or someone, violently pull on his backpack. He shrieked as he went flying backwards, but caught from falling on his back from a certain red eyed student. Matthew widened his own eyes and jumped back slightly, taken aback from the boy's actions.

"What? Can't even walk to rehearsal with me, Juliet?" Gil asked snidely, all with a shit eating grin on his face. This guy was going to be the absolute death of him.

Matthew tried his best to keep a straight face and a steady tone, but failed miserably. "I mean, I guess I didn't think of it, you know?"

Gilbert pursed his lips and raised his brows, attempting to comfort him in his own strange way, which consisted of a slap on the back and a almost mocking tone of voice, "I wasn't trying to scare you! Lighten up, blond boy!"

"Do you even know my name?" Matthew spit out before he fully realized how mean he unintentionally sounded. "I mean, uh, it's just that I wasn't sure if you even heard my name yesterday! I wasn't being rude or anything! I'm sorry if it seemed that way!"

Gil watched in what seemed like awe as he corrected, "You weren't being mean, blond boy, I just forgot your name already."

Fantastic, another person who had completely forgotten who Matthew was. He cleared his throat and reintroduced himself. "I'm Matthew, Matthew Williams. And I know who you are."

Gilbert sucked his teeth and chuckled, slightly turning his head away, "It seems that my reputation is already one step in front of me."

Matthew shook his head, wholeheartedly agreeing with him. As they continued walking, Matt occasionally took glances at him and came to the quick conclusion that Gilbert Beilschmidt, the school's infamous 'bad boy', was shorter than Matthew. And by a considerable amount, no less. Matt had at least half a foot on him perhaps, and it made him feel less nervous. Less nervous meaning that even if Gilbert was as hot headed as everyone said he was, that at least he had some height on him to… to what? Knock him out? As if Matthew would do something like that, and as if Gilbert would resort to violence like that. Though, he remained wary and heeded everyone's warnings.

Once they arrived, all eyes were on them due to their mild tardiness. Matthew broke into an anxious sweat and left Gil in his dust as he braced toward the director. Facing him with fists clenched in his hoodie pocket, he rolled back and forth on his heels as he suggested, "Hey, I was wondering if we could, like, cut out the kissing parts of the play?"

The director cocked his head and asked, "Why would we do that? Then it wouldn't be Romeo and Juliet! The romance would be lost! It would just be some… weird friendship!"

Matthew shrugged his shoulders, "Well, wasn't that what Romeo and Juliet really were? Besides, I don't want to kiss someone I hardly know, so you better figure something out or you lose me as Juliet."

"I second that," Gilbert called as he walked up to the two, and the director frowned as he said so.

He paused for a moment to ponder, and proposed, "How about a brush of the lips? You don't even have to do anything, just lightly touch your lips together! It won't even look fake to the audience, I promise! You guys understand that I'm only trying to keep the play as authentic as possible, right?"

Matthew glimpsed at Gilbert from the corner of his eye and they had made a nonverbal agreement. The shorter one shrugged, "I guess that's alright."

"Great!" he beamed, handing the both of them the unedited version of their scripts. "We're not going to be doing much today, just some icebreakers to get to know everybody and get comfortable. As for the scripts, I'd like for you to read these until next practice, as we will be revising them then. So would you please sit in the circle on the stage?"

Matt looked over and, like he had just said, there was a circle of the club members sitting in the middle of the stage. He and Gilbert walked up to the group together and sat next to each other, as Gilbert was really the only person Matthew felt somewhat comfortable around. Everyone in the cast were conversing amongst each other, leaving the two late members to their own demise. While Matthew was content to read over the script and daydream, a voice jerked him from his imagination.

"So…" Gilbert's voice trailed off, the boy daring not to make eye contact with him. "What brings you here?"

By 'here', Matthew was close to saying that it was technically Gilbert that brought him to practice, but he gave a more reasonable response, "I like theater. Do you?"

He mumbled to himself, still eyeing the floor and bouncing his leg, "I mean, I guess."

Well, who would have thought that the coolest, most rebellious kid in school  _liked_ theater? That was a shock. Matthew cleared his throat, and continued, "Really? I didn't think that would be an interest of yours."

Gilbert sewed his brow and wore a perplexed expression, pursing his lips as Matthew realized how rude his remark may have come off. He stumbled over his apology, "Oh geez, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to sound rude or anything! I just, I didn't know that you liked theater! Like, I don't know many people who like theater anyway, so I was just asking—"

"It's alright, Matthew," Gilbert interrupted, reassuring him. "I know I'm pretty uncomfortable to be around sometimes, I don't blame you."

Matthew frowned; feeling a sudden sadness that Gilbert seemed to be aware of his reputation, but still didn't change his ways. Or perhaps, he was aware of his current situation and was trying to change, but his reputation seemed to always get the best of him. Whichever one it was, Gilbert's self esteem was implied to be extremely low to disregard himself like he had.

"Well, what kind of plays or playwrights do you like?" Matt tried to get out of his own, frazzled head.

He paused, resting his chin in his templed hands, and replied in a hushed, slow tone, "I like Shakespeare, just like everyone else here, I assume. I also like Arthur Miller, and Edward Albee, too. Lorraine Hansberry was ahead of her time with  _A Raisin in The Sun_  and  _Les Blanc_ , I believe."

As he continued, Matthew could only sit and stare in complete and total amazement, as the boy was willingly showing him a side of himself that more than likely no one saw before. He thought that Gilbert joining the drama club was just a way to pick up girls, but it was undeniable how educated he was in the topic of theater and playwrights. Literally nobody Matthew was friends or acquaintances with even knew half of the people Gilbert was rambling about. But an idea struck him; perhaps he and Gilbert could be friends, or at least not annoy the hell out of each other anymore. Though, that would imply that Gilbert was annoyed with Matthew as Matthew was with him, but Gilbert was a hard face to read, and he would probably never know his true impression.

"Wow, I didn't think anyone really cared about theater like you seem to," Matthew complimented. Gilbert's eyes widened, much like a deer's in a car's headlights, and he continued, "It's just something that I really enjoy and since it's such a obscure interest, it's hard to meet people who like it as well."

Gilbert's eyes were still bright, his pupils appeared to be larger than before, and he gave a wispy chuckle. He rubbed the back of his neck and did not look at Matthew directly, muttering, "Yeah, I guess I've always been interested in it."

Before Matthew could add any commentary, their drama club director clapped his hands and announced, "Alright everyone!" he called. "I'd like to start off by thanking our Romeo and Juliet, especially Juliet, for being here today!"

The circle of students clapped for Matthew as his cheeks grew hot. How was he going to survive opening night if he could barely handle a round of applause from his fellow club members? Their leader continued nonetheless, "Matthew, you were the only one that auditioned for the role of Juliet, and can I just say that I'm flattered by your courage and selflessness? It's very admirable!"

Matthew plucked his brow as the realization set in; he got the part because he was the only one that tried out for it. He could have easily gotten the part of Romeo if it weren't for Gilbert. He wasn't upset about it, necessarily. Annoyed was more like it.

"So with that," he continued, "I'd like for this rehearsal to serve as a time to get to know each other better. I've picked out some fun icebreakers and trust exercises for today, so please pick a partner everybody!"

Matthew glanced at Gilbert from the corner of his eyes and mumbled, "Do you want to be partners?"

"I mean," Gilbert glanced up at him from his hunched over position and smirked, "we kind of are, aren't we?"

Matthew blushed for a reason he couldn't comprehend, but brushed it off, scooting a little closer to indicate to others that they were a pair. Once everyone seemed to be settled, the director instructed, "Alright, so we're going to start with a game I'm pretty sure you have all played: 'Two Truths, One Lie'! It's simple; tell your partner two truths about yourself and one lie, and see if they can spot it!"

After everyone started playing, Matthew turned to Gilbert and inquired, "I'll go first, if you want."

Gil shrugged as Matt gathered up all the courage he could muster at the moment and began, "Okay, um. I have a younger brother, I have a dog, and my favorite color is red."

Gilbert pursed his lips and drew his brows together, pondering on which one was the lie. He concluded, "The lie is the dog."

Matt giggled a little at the foreign boy's wording and confirmed, "You got me! How did you know?"

"I have three dogs of my own. It's just one of those thing you can spot in other people when you have dogs," he read. When it came to his turn, Gil respired and held his chin in his palm, elbow on his leg and fingers rapping on the side of his surprisingly soft jaw. He took a deep breath as he finally spoke, "Okay, so I was born and raised in Germany, I have a younger brother, and I play the flute."

Matthew took a second to consider which one would be the lie. Off the bat, he would say that it was the flute, but he reconsidered with the new insight he had about the boy's 'softer' side. Regardless, he knew he was most likely from Germany and for sure had a younger brother, and answered, "Uh, is it the flute?"

Gilbert blinked for a moment and agreed with a shrug of his shoulders, "Yeah, I don't play the flute."

"Okay, my turn, I guess," Matthew trailed off as he tried to think of more things to say. Finally, he revealed, "I like theater, I have amnesia, and I'm nineteen."

Gilbert hummed and placed his chin back into his hands. "I mean, I hope the amnesia one isn't true."

Matthew shook his head and corrected, "I'm actually eighteen."

"Are you serious? Is everything okay?" Gilbert's expression widened as he asked. His expression shifted as he flitted his eyes in a flurry of panic, fretting, "Oh shit, do you even remember who I am? No wonder I scared you earlier! I am so sorry!"

Gil shook his head and offered his hand as he began, "Hello, my name is Gilbert Beilschmidt, and I'm your Romeo for the play! I apologize for scaring you earlier!"

"I know who you are! Now you're just patronizing me!" Matthew chuckled, taking Gil's hand nevertheless. It was honestly kinda sweaty. Though, he was not entirely sure if Gilbert was actually concerned or if he was making a joke of it, judging by his expression. He decided to take the latter and reassure him anyway, "My amnesia isn't really that bad anymore, I promise."

Gilbert knitted his brows and slowly slipped out of Matthew's hand, challenging, "Then, what is your condition like?"

Matthew pursed his lips as he searched for the words to describe his ailment, casually wiping his hands off on his jeans, "I just don't really remember things as they happened, or as clear as I used to. Sometimes, it's like my brain replaces my real memories with fake ones, if that makes any sense."

The older teen's eyes ogled him, exclaiming, "I can't even begin to imagine what that would be like."

"I'm not going to lie, it's been pretty hard, mostly on my family," Matthew admitted. "But it's a process, and it's not always going to be easy, is it?"

Gilbert acknowledged him, and remarked his agreeance, asking, "Sorry if I sound rude, but why are you in the play if it's hard for you to remember things?"

"My doctor recommended that I join because memorizing lines will help improve my memory," he explained. He rubbed his upper arm and peered over at Gil, inquiring, "Is that why you're here?"

"I guess you could say that," he acknowledged. Gil bounced his eyes off of Matt and scoffed, "I'm trying to become more fluent in English, if you couldn't tell how bad it is."

Matthew's eyes widened and consoled, "No! I didn't think it was bad at all! I think you're pretty fluent, in my opinion!"

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders and exasperated, "Plays were some of the first things I learned to read when I moved over here. Even though I wasn't as fluent as I would have liked, they still helped me with simple conversations."

"I can't even imagine what that would be like," Matthew repeated back. He wanted to ask more about Gilbert, ask more about how he grew up and eventually adapted to the American lifestyle. Though, he thought it best to leave it at that, and if Gilbert was willing to confide in him that information someday, then he would happily be an active candidate, to give him a chance like Antonio and Francis had said.

They then sat in a short lived silence, filled with Matthew staring at Gilbert's face unknowingly, only noticing when Gilbert raised his eyebrows in question. He looked away with a start, blushing until the director tore through the negative space and declared, "Alright, that should have been plenty of time! Now I'd like for you, with your same partner, to demonstrate trust falls. I don't think we need a demonstration for that, do we?"

Without further instruction, the entire club stood up and started falling and catching each other, but Matthew sat in bafflement as he was certain that his heart stopped beating completely. Trust Gilbert to catch his fall?  _Gilbert Beilschmidt?_  Sure, he liked him, they got along pretty well so far, but to trust him to catch him? That was never going to happen! Then again, there must have been something in the atmosphere that made Matthew close his eyes and hold out his arms to prepare himself for his fall into Gilbert Beilschmidt's arms. Sometimes he wondered if he even had a brain at all, with how little of a second thought he gave similar situations.

"Are you sure you'll catch me?" Matthew paused for the about the fourth time to turn and look at his partner, Gilbert sighing deeply.

"Of course I'm going to catch you!" he shouted back, arms thrown out exaggeratedly. "I promise!"

With that, Matthew screwed his face and closed his eyes and threw his arms out in front of him, waiting to fall flat on the floor. Though, it was not the floor he landed on. He fell onto something sturdy, yet soft at the same time, arms underneath his to support his weight. He cautiously looked up to see Gilbert, his top teeth still beaming even when the stage lights casted a shadow on his features, as he smirked down at him and opposed, "See? I didn't let you fall!"

"I guess you didn't," Matthew half chuckled, his spirits instantly rising and adrenaline rushing through his body. Idly noticing that Gilbert smelled really nice.

Gilbert lifted the teen back up to his feet, Matt gasping from surprise, not expecting to be caught from his fall but additionally being picked back up. He turned to face Gilbert wearing a shit eating grin on his face, motioning his hands to his backside and remarking, "Now, are you sure you can catch all of this?"

He rolled his eyes at the remark and held out his arms, "Just fall already!"

Gilbert smiled and winked as he turned around, at least, that was what it looked like he did. He held out his arms and kicked one foot in front of himself and plummeted towards Matthew, the impact nearly knocking the wind out of the fragile boy. With Gilbert's weight pushing on his ribcage, he slowly backed up and gently laid him on the stage floor. Gil looked up into his eyes, chuckling joyously, and Matthew couldn't look away from his smile. What was going on with him?

"Well, I guess you didn't drop me," Gilbert rose to his feet once again, looking back into Matthew's eyes with joyous intent. Before he could say anything more, the director spoke up once again.

"For our last activity," he announced, "I want everyone to sit in a drama circle and hold hands!"

Matthew and Gilbert integrated themselves into the circle, Matthew held out his hand to Gilbert, who took it with his own warm, sweaty palms. He took the hand of another group member and Gil did the same, the leader continued giving out instructions. "Alright, so starting with Gilbert, you guys will squeeze the hand to your right and pass it on! It's like a game of telephone, but with no words involved! Only trust and teamwork!"

Gilbert tentatively glanced at Matthew through his lashes and clutched his much smaller hand, nearly crushing him in the process. Matthew then grasped the hand of the person sitting next to him, and it went on and on. Soon enough, they were instructed to make patterns with it, like squeezing the person's hand twice instead of once, or just making a beat with it. Matthew rather enjoyed the activity, but when he would peer over at Gilbert, it seemed as if he were having a heart attack with how stiff and almost unresponsive he was. Perhaps he was just sensitive, for as rough and tough as he made himself appear to be, it was still a possibility. Maybe he doesn't like germs?

For the rest of rehearsal, they did not do much rehearsing but more talking with one another. Though, Matthew had conversations with one member exclusively: Gilbert. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with the others, it was just something about the older boy's aura that made him so friendly and approachable to Matthew. His thoughts were about Gilbert and only Gilbert, and it was uncontrollable. Matthew shook his head as he walked towards where he left his backpack, trying to make sense of the situation. Gilbert was by no means a nice guy, everyone had told him so. If that were true, then what was that invisible attraction he experienced when they were together? Surely it was their love of theater that brought them together, just like everyone else in the group, right?

Matthew threw his bag on his back and made his way out of the stage door exit, putting in his headphones and turning on his music. As he walked, he thought about how practice went surprisingly well, and he thought about how Gilbert was nothing but nice to him. What were people talking about? He seemed like a pretty likable guy, not the best but still pretty tolerable. Matthew tried not to let it get to his head much, so he concentrated on the song lyrics playing through his ears.

" _Last year's wishes are this year's apologies every last time I come home. I take my last chance to burn a bridge or two. I only keep myself this sick in the head 'cause I know how the words get you."_

He smiled and exhaled deeply, the song being nostalgic and an old comfort to Matthew. He couldn't count how many times he had episodes and listened to the band to regain his temporarily memory loss. Though, Matthew did not like to think of those times he had memory loss episodes and scared his whole family. Or the first time his memory went blank and no one knew that it was a side effect of his amnesia. He could clearly remember the story everyone told him; Alfred came home from school and saw Matthew sitting in the kitchen in the process of making food. When he approached him, he noticed that the food was on fire and Matthew was dazed and confused. That hospital visit was also a hazy time, a memory without much substance. His mind had failed him a couple more times after that, but not as often as it used to. He was a lot healthier now then he ever was, and his hospital visits decreased exponentially.

As Matthew continued his way, a deafening car horn made him jump and nearly drop his cell phone. He even had his music at a considerable volume and he still heard the horn! When he recollected himself, Matt turned to see who the driver of the vehicle was, and was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face.

"Hey, Matthew!" Gilbert called from the driver's seat of an old beat up car, cigarette hanging from his lips. He yelled again, "What's up? Where are you going?"

"Home," Matthew replied matter of factly. "Why?"

"I'll give you a ride, Juliet! No need to walk all the way home!" Gil ushered his arm for the boy to walk closer to him, and Matt complied. As he opened the passenger side door, trash tumbled out onto the road, some of which mostly included empty soda bottles and cigarette cartons. Gilbert hurriedly grabbed a handful of desolate six pack containers and stuffed the trash inside and threw them in the back seat to make room. Matthew swallowed his pride and took the now empty spot and buckled up. Gilbert took a drag of his cigarette and leaned over to dig around the glove box in front of Matthew, handing him a CD holder and offering, "Here, pick out anything you want."

Matt nodded and started flipping through his selection, completely unaware of any of the bands Gilbert's CD collection had to offer. They all have some variant of a skull and crossbones or lettering that he couldn't really decipher. Once he got to the last slot, he spotted the most amazing find of his entire day, something that made Matthew almost immediately connect with Gilbert. A plain CD, more than likely burned by the driver himself, with the acronym 'FOB' scratched across it in black marker.

"Does this stand for what I think it stands for?" Matthew practically beamed as he inquired, tilting the CD towards the driver's direction.

Gilbert's brows raised and he grabbed the cigarette from his mouth as his jaw hit his lap. He tripped over his words as he tried to explain, "It's, uh—It's not mine! It's my little brother's!"

"Too bad," Matt sighed, playfully. "Because I was about to say that you have good taste in music, but I guess you'll have to tell that to your brother instead." Why was he being playful with this guy? Matt shook his head, figuring it didn't matter anyway.

Gil took another breath of his cigarette and stammered, "I mean, it's in my car, isn't it? So I guess it's a little bit mine, right?"

Matthew giggled at his wording and comforted him, "I was just kidding! I just can't believe that someone else I know likes Fall Out Boy, too!"

His ears perked up as he heard what the passenger said and replied, "Really? I didn't think anyone even listened to them anymore."

"I mean, no one listens to their music  _now_ ," Matthew added. "I think it's because when they came back with newer stuff all of their fans just grew out of it, you know?."

"Totally agree," Gil shook his head. "You know, no one understands truly how underrated they really are. I'm glad that you and I have something in common."

Matthew grinned from ear to ear, his heart skipping rope. Though, it wasn't because of Gilbert or anything, but that someone still liked his favorite band. There were too many thoughts in his head, so he decided to just pop the CD in and look out the window until they arrived at his house. He rolled the window down and took a deep breath, his ears digesting the band's earlier discography. The two didn't speak again for quite a while, but words weren't needed in a conversation like theirs. It was like they were feeding off of each other's energies, as if they could know exactly what the other person was thinking without speaking a word. Or, at least, Matthew hoped that he was not the only one experiencing it.

After countless wrong turns and Gilbert accidentally running over someone's mailbox when he tried to make a U-turn, they arrived at Matthew's residence. He pulled the car in park and Matthew unfastened his seatbelt, but before he let him leave, Gil muttered under his breath, avoiding direct eye contact, "Hey, uh, thanks for hanging out with me today. I didn't mean to be clingy and shit, you're just the only person I really know in the club."

Matthew's heart skipped from the flattery and he replied, "It's alright! I had so much fun today! Probably because I was hanging out with you!"

Gilbert's eyes widened as he rubbed the steering wheel with a twitch running through his hands, "Thank you, you're really too nice to me."

"See you tomorrow?" Matthew asked. Gil shook his head hesitantly and he exited the vehicle, waving goodbye to the driver.

Matthew unlocked the front door and turned to see Gilbert watching him, probably to make sure he got in the house safe. He waved once again and he received a shaky gesture in return. The boy smiled and closed the door behind him, making haste to his bedroom. Matthew pulled out his cell phone and clicked on the old group chat, pondering of what to send.

Francis, Antonio:

Hey guys! I wanted to say thanks for telling me that stuff about Gilbert. I think we actually got along pretty well at rehearsal today!

Francis:

Oh, so it did go well?

Matthew:

You mean to tell me that you didn't think it would go well?

Antonio:

No, not exactly! It's just that we've known Gil for a long time and we know how he is sometimes.

Francis:

Yeah, even though he definitely doesn't look like it, he's a very fragile person! And sometimes that fragility can come off as arrogance! We just didn't want for you to think Gil would ever be angry with you!

Matthew:

Oh, well I guess that makes sense. I just wanted to thank you guys for telling me about him, I think it helped me understand him a little more.

Francis:

We're glad to be of assistance! So, how exactly did practice go, if you don't mind me asking?

Matthew:

Well, today we mostly did a lot of activities to get to know everyone, but I only learned about Gilbert, haha.

Antonio:

Oh? What did you learn?

Matthew:

Well, I learned that he has three dogs, he has a younger brother, that he doesn't play the flute, and he was born and raised in Germany. And he actually knows a lot about plays and stuff, maybe even more than me!

Antonio:

Wait, he said he doesn't play flute?

Matthew:

Or something like that. Oh and best of all, he likes Fall Out Boy! Like, unironically!

Francis:

Oh my God, did he actually admit to that?

Antonio:

He must really like you to say that.

Matthew:

What do you mean?

Francis:

He thinks that because everyone thinks he's a bad boy that he can only listen to 'bad boy' music. Like, if you've ever seen his CD collection it's all obscure German metal bands. He really listens to that shit seriously. But Fall Out Boy is like, his only exception.

Antonio:

Yeah, Francis and I are the only ones that know that he still listens to them.

Francis:

So he must really like you, Mattie. Consider yourself lucky!

Matthew:

What do you mean he likes me? Not like, 'like me' like me, right?

Francis:

Oh no! He's straight as an arrow, unfortunately.

Matthew:

Unfortunately?

Antonio:

Don't tell him we told you this, but Gilbert's like, a total fucking sweetheart. Yeah, he's got his bad moments, but don't let anyone, especially Gil himself, tell you he's anything but a big ol' softie. But sometimes, people take advantage of his kindness, and it makes him turn into a real asshole.

Francis:

Yeah, like last year his asshole of an ex girlfriend broke up with him and it totally destroyed him. I'm not going to go into detail about their relationship, but it was very toxic. There was a period of time where his ex didn't even let him talk to us because of the bullshit she force fed him.

Antonio:

To this day there are things that he went through that even we don't know about. It's kind of scary to think about it, to be honest. I still can't even look at his ex without feeling so disgusted with her and how she treated him.

Matthew:

I didn't know that about him! That's so terrible! But, what does that have to do about him being unfortunately straight?

Francis:

Because he's my dream man, that's why!

Antonio:

Oh my God, here we go again.

Francis:

Well it's true! He's got a tough shell but once you break through it, he's a soft little chick! The perfect 'bad boy turned good' complex! Who wouldn't be all over that?

Antonio:

I'm not.

Matthew:

Neither am I. Besides, you have a crush on like, all of your friends, Francis.

Francis:

I mean, you may be right but whatever! I still say that anyone would be lucky to have him! Liz should have realized how fortunate she was!

Matthew:

Wait do you mean Elizabeth? Like, Elizabeth Hedervary? That Liz?

Francis:

Yeah, that's exactly the one! How did you know? Do you know her?

Matthew:

We've had classes together before. I think she's in one of my classes now, actually.

Antonio:

Whatever she tells you, don't believe her! She isn't one to be trusted, and not just because she broke Gilbert's heart!

Matthew:

I mean, I don't really talk to her but I'll be sure to steer clear, for Gilbert's sake anyway.

Antonio:

You're such a good friend, Matt!

Francis:

Welcome to the world of Gilbert stans, Antonio and will be your welcome committee.

Matthew:

Haha, very funny. See you guys in school tomorrow!

Antonio:

Bye!

Francis:

Love you!

Matthew:

Love you too, guys!

Matthew dropped his phone onto his duvet and flopped onto his back. He contemplated about Gilbert, and how much more complex he is than he first appeared. So he was actually nice? Matthew didn't have any problems believing that Gilbert was capable of being kind, but it was apparently so rare and only shown to loved ones. Did this mean that Matthew and him were friends now? Or were they still drama partners?

* * *

Gilbert parked the car and rushed into his house as he checked his phone. Once he was in his bedroom, he slammed his door and threw his book bag on his bed. Gil stood for a moment before he grabbed his pillow and threw it behind him as he flopped onto the bed.

"I'm so stupid!" he screamed into his blankets. Thoughts raced through his head, the whole rehearsal and every mistake he made replayed over and over again. After torturing himself for a while, pulled up the messaging thread with his two friends and started typing rapidly.

To: Francis, Antonio:

Guys, I have to tell you something really important.

Francis:

What is it, Romeo? Did you get to make out with Matthew today?

Gilbert:

Haha, very funny. Should I remind you how much more active my love life is than yours?

Antonio:

We all know that's a lie, so just get to the point already, man! I've got dinner in the oven!

Gilbert:

First of all, ouch. Second of all, I think I'm going to drop out of the drama club.

Antonio:

You told us this yesterday and you're still in the club why?

Francis:

I think it's because he's (shocker) being dramatic.

Antonio:

Then you're perfect for the club, Gil! Where's the problem?

Gilbert:

All I ask is for love and advice and support and this is the way I'm treated.

Francis:

Just get on with it and tell us what's wrong this time!

Gilbert:

I'll ignore that, but only because this is a serious situation. I don't think I can stay in the club because I feel sick everytime I'm there. I don't think it's a virus, because it doesn't explain why I'm fine most of the time I'm not at rehearsal.

Antonio:

Can you elaborate? What are your symptoms?

Gilbert:

Well I get sweaty and shaky and my stomach feels jumpy and my heart feels like someone is stepping on it and I just don't know what to do guys.

Francis:

,,,

Antonio:

,,,

Gilbert:

Come on guys! I'm being serious here! I can't find any explanations for it!

Francis:

Is the answer not obvious enough to you?

Antonio:

It's your nerves, dude. You're just anxious.

Gilbert:

Anxious? What reason would I have to be anxious?

Francis:

Maybe because you're pursuing a secret passion of yours that you've never shared to the world before and now you're feeling a little self conscious?

Gilbert:

Is it that obvious?

Francis:

I don't think you truly understand how other people perceive you.

Gilbert:

I know, everyone thinks that I'm just some loser troublemaker who can't graduate. I just don't know how to stop worrying about what other people think of me.

Antonio:

I think that these are the kind of situations where you have to just not give a shit. Yeah, I know that it sucks, but I'm telling you this as your friend, that you're going to get through it.

Francis:

Yeah, just stick with the club for a little while longer, please? We know how much you've wanted this, don't throw it away because of a few jerks. Don't let this become the flute thing all over again. Try to find something to look forward to, if you have to.

Gilbert put his phone down for a moment and looked toward his bedroom closet where his flute had resided for many years. He recalled how he tried to join the school band but got harrassed for being the only boy in the flute section. It ultimately was the reason why he left the band and stopped doing after school activities all together. For years after that, he let the influence of others determine that he hated the flute, that he hated the instrument that he loved the most. It was only until recently that he decided that he did not hate the flute as much as he lead himself to believe, and that perhaps he could pick it up again.

For once, he seriously considered his friends advice and what his next step should be. The concept of Matthew, with his strange glasses and long blond hair he couldn't quite wrap his head around came to mind and he smiled. The thought of Matthew smiling at him, widening his eyes as he spoke, avidly interested in what he was saying was a calming one. Were they friends? Or were they just club members? Gil decided that he would try his best to be nice to him and perhaps gain a new friend from the experience. Maybe Matthew was going to be the thing he would look forward to from now on.


End file.
